


The Dark Side

by dirtygsanchez



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Dom/sub, Humiliation, M/M, Oral Sex, Skull Fucking, Violence, rickcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 00:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5847403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtygsanchez/pseuds/dirtygsanchez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So you know that one Rick, he's dressed in Brown in the credits of Season 2, well people fucking love him and requested a fic so here it is. </p><p>Han Solo meets Evil Rick in a bar and predictably finds himself skull fucked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark Side

Aggressively massaging a frown from his brow Han Solo Rick slung back another shot of throat scolding bourbon. Once again he had found himself drinking alone in a sweat-stained, smoke-choked shit-hole bar at the edge of the galaxy. Somehow he found himself inexplicably drawn to these kinds of establishments; the dim lights, indifferent patrons and slow tempo dirty jazz; all slinked around him to successfully render him invisible. It was only in such places that he felt comfortable conducting his business, business which usually involved completing intergalactic arms deals and arranging the covert transportation of illegal goods. Tonight however, much to his increasing annoyance, his contact had failed to turn up.

Instinctually he surveyed the room, reinforcing his own sense of security in the process. Much to his surprise his eyes settled upon two other Ricks in the corner of the tavern. One he immediately recognised as Rick Sanchez from Earth Dimension C-137; he was easy to spot, after all, no other Rick had done more to fight the Galactic Federation or oppose the Council of Ricks. The other Rick however was more difficult to place; under his lab coat he wore a tight black t-shirt which somehow complemented his bleak, menacingly dark eyes. It was only when Hans Rick saw the man’s sickly smile spread softly across his scarred mouth, that he realised with an ominous shiver exactly who C-137 was with.

The two men appeared to be arguing, fiercely pointing, swearing and spluttering at each other. Hans Rick sat entranced by the scenario unfolding in front of him; since abandoning his post as a Council Officer many years ago, he rarely came into contact with other versions of himself. Just as he thought the two men were about to come to savage blows, he watched transfixed as Evil Rick grabbed Rick C-137 tightly by the throat and began kissing him with forceful intensity.

Hans Rick found himself completely and utterly captivated, clearly these two were in a Rick-cestuous relationship, but such relationships had been outlawed by the Council of Ricks years ago. _“Outlawed_ ” was of course a matter of interpretation; Rickcest still occurred but only at the upper echelons within the High Council of Ricks, behind closed doors and only with the Rick you were _“assigned_ ” which frankly rendered the whole thing pointless.

Hans Rick watched the two Ricks, disgustingly entranced as they continued to make out, their lips pressed slick and hard together, grasping desperately onto each other’s lab coats as their hands unashamedly explored one another.  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as he realised he was enjoying this perverse voyeurism far more than he had expected,  a fact clearly displayed by the erection he could now feel beginning to bulge in his tight trousers.

Breaking off the indulgently violent kiss, Evil Rick craned his neck to create eye contact with Hans Rick. A wry smile playing on his lips, he pressed his palm flat against C-137’s chest and pushed him back into his seat. Extending his arm, he beckoned Hans Rick over with a slow curl of his index finger.

Hans Rick, embarrassed that he had been caught so obviously engrossed in the pair, promptly ordered three whiskey’s from the bar and tentatively made his way over to them.

 _“Jesus Christ, you, you know who this guy is, he, he’s Han Solo Rick, l-look at that cute-URRP ass maroon outfit, he’s S-Star Wars as fuck.”_ Rick C-137 slurred drunkenly, grabbing two glasses out of Hans Rick’s hands and downing both.

Evil Rick slowly looked the newcomer over as he lit a cigar. _“He’s a six at best.”_ He stated flatly, returning his attention to his glass of Chartreuse.  

 _“Oh come on guys, only a six?”_ Hans Rick joked, jovially placing a hand on his hip, attempting to lighten the mood.

Evil Rick raised an eyebrow and smirked. _“Well then, why don’t you come sit on my fucking lap and we’ll see if we can’t make you an eight.”_ He hissed, simultaneously blowing smoke in Hans Rick’s face, watching with satisfaction as the soft tendrils of vapour swirled around him.

Hans Rick blushed crimson and quickly drained the remaining drops of whiskey in his glass, choosing to drink rather than respond. He’d heard tales about this Rick, none of which were complimentary and all of which had ended in bloodshed.  

 _“Don’t mind him, he, he’s URRP drunk.”_ C-137 laughed, falling back into his seat.

Evil Rick scowled and sipped delicately at his drink, swirling a slender finger in the green iridescent liqueur. _“Oh he’s been minding me, he’s been minding me all fucking night, haven’t you Solo?”_ Standing up, he extinguished his cigar and took position at the side of Hans Rick, snaking his arm fluidly around his waist.

He pursed his lips to Hans Rick’s ear _. “Does it get you off, get you hard?”_ he hissed moving his hand between Hans Rick’s legs and taking a firm grasp of his dick and balls.

Hans Rick coughed, his hand instinctively moving to his pistol holster, which he discovered was alarmingly empty.

 _“Look, looking for this?”_ Evil Rick teased, taking a step back and spinning the laser pistol around his finger.

Evil Rick looked down at Rick C-137 who seemed to have passed out on the table and was now snoring loudly in a pool of his own drool.

Without pausing for further thought, Evil Rick nudged the tip of the gun against the base of Hans Rick’s spine and lowered his mouth to Hans Rick’s ear, allowing his lips to brush provocatively against his earlobe. _“I’m going to the bathroom.”_ he whispered. _“You should consider joining me.”_

Explicitly aware of Evil Rick’s reputation, Hans Rick squirmed against the barrel of the gun and nodded solemnly, quickly conceding that he had little choice.

As they entered the toilets, Evil Rick kicked in a cubicle door with such force that the hinges rattled and the handle smashed a chunk out of the cubicle wall. Pushing Hans Rick inside, he pressed the muzzle of the gun against his forehead and forced him to the floor. Hans Rick looked up into Evil Rick’s eyes then, unable to hold his steely gaze, cast his eyes back down to the ground.

With Hans Rick supplicated on the floor, Evil Rick stepped into the cubicle, pushing him back against the toilet bowl and positioning himself so that his crotch was level with Hans Rick’s face. He stretched behind his back and shut the door behind him, firmly locking it. Reaching down he stroked the side of Hans Rick’s face with patronising softness before reaching for the fly of his trousers. Evil Rick freed his hard cock with a jerk of his hips, slapping Hans Rick hard around the face with the purple throbbing end, gasping with pleasure at the delicious pain that shot through his erection and into his stomach as he enjoyed the shocked look on Hans Rick’s face.

Evil Rick gripped Hans Rick’s cheeks hard, forcing him to look up, savouring the pleading look of arousal  in his eyes.

 _“You want this even more than me, don’t you?”_ he whispered, his voice raw with menace.

Casting the gun to the ground he broke it in two with the heel of his shoe then reached his fingers around the back of Hans Rick’s head. Twisting his bony fingers into Hans Rick’s tangled mop of hair he forced back his head with such force that Hans thought his neck might snap. Evil Rick thrust hard into Hans Rick’s keening throat, staring into his eyes and watching his eyebrows knot together with discomfort and mortification as he skull-fucked him with breath-taking force. Hans Rick felt bitter bile rising in his throat as he struggled not to gag. He closed his eyes and tried to swallow the sensation of rising panic, but lost his concentration and found himself retching as Evil Rick thrust into his throat.

Evil Rick pulled his cock out of Hans Rick’s mouth. As much as he loved to hear the sound of Hans Rick struggle and gag, he knew that this was a job that he would have to finish himself. He wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the base of his cock, stroking it up and down rhythmically before slapping Hans Rick’s face with it again on each side, leaving sticky splatters of saliva on his cheeks. He slipped his grip to allow the rest of his hand to clasp his twitching shaft. He closed his eyes momentarily as he could feel his orgasm nearing, opening them again to see his thick, sticky semen spurting out of his empurpled head, hitting Hans Rick in the eye and collecting in opalescent pools on his stubble. Removing his hand from his cock, he wiped his palm on the right side of Hans Rick’s face, leaving a trail of spit and cum, before catching a pearl of his spunk on the end of his finger and forcing it into Hans Rick’s mouth, making him suck it clean.

Stepping back and zipping his wilting member back into his trousers, he looked down at Hans Rick’s humbled face.

 _“Just in case you don’t understand, let me spell it out to you Asshole.”_ He snarled. _The only reason I haven’t eliminated you is because you’ve provided a small degree of amusement on a rather dull evening.”_

He gripped Hans Rick’s chin and held his gaze.

_“You don’t look for me, you don’t talk to me and as far as you’re concerned C-137 doesn’t exist, we’re fucking ghosts, do you understand?”_

Hans Rick nodded, eyes cast down, as Evil Rick reached behind him for the bolt on the door.

_“Oh, and one last thing Solo - don’t think about washing your face before coming back out, I feel I’ve created something of an artwork there, it would be such a shame not to share it with the masses.”_

Hans Rick heard the door of the cubicle open, and when he looked up Evil Rick was gone in a whisper, like a phantom. He picked himself up from the floor and winced with pain as he straightened up, the imprint of the toilet seat impressed across the middle of his back. He walked towards the toilet door and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Staring back at him was a broken-looking man - matted hair, split lip, blood-stains and a string of shiny semen clinging to his stubble and hanging from his jaw. He sighed, trying to will away his partial erection. Knowing that to disobey Evil Rick’s orders would be signing his own death warrant, he bypassed the sink and reached forward to pull open the door and step back into the bar.

As he pushed through the crowd, he felt as though all eyes were on him. Glancing side wards, he saw that Evil Rick had moved C-137 to sit next to him, his arm draped possessively over his shoulder, his hand smoothing sinuously up his thigh. As instructed, Hans Rick said nothing and slipped out of the nearest exit, his mind consumed with questions about himself, his senses permeated with the foul flavour and corrupting scent of Evil Rick.  

The End.

 


End file.
